Smash
by youkai chick supreme
Summary: I hate the way she can take nothing and turn it into him, a 2 dimensional Sora, perfect in every way, in a matter of moments.' Jealousy, thy name is Riku.


A/n: This hints at SoraxNamine a lot more than I'd like it to… but it needs to to work

A/n: This hints at SoraxNamine a lot more than I'd like it to… but it needs to, to work.

It's fun writing as a jealous Riku.

Disclaimer: Not the owner, just an obsessed fan.

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I'd like to rip the brush out of her hands and tear the bristles out, one by one. How dare she do this so easily. How dare she take nothing and turn it into _his face_, his beautiful face, without even trying.

Why does she get to study his features openly? Why does she get to look at him, lock eyes with him, smile shyly at him? Why does she get to openly admire him while I have to worship him behind closed and locked doors?

My beautiful little sister, how I hate her. I hate her and her charcoal pencil sets, her sketch books and her watercolors, I hate her canvas and I hate her "creative eye." I hate the way she can take nothing and turn it into him, a 2 dimensional Sora, perfect in every way, in a matter of moments.

I hate the hours they spend in her room, even though he is posed in a chair and she is posed at her canvas, and despite the fact that they never make any bodily contact. I hate every moment they spend together, because every second they spend together in there, they come out looking all the more like a couple, rather than a couple of friends.

Why does she have all this talent, while I can't even make stick figures proportional? I hate her for being so wonderful. She can take one look at something and then draw it and make it more gorgeous than it was to begin with. I hate her for it.

I have nothing. I have no talent to speak of. I have words. Not "the gift of words" like Kairi has, and not "a way with words" like Sora. I just have words, an abundance of words and a few different, unremarkable ways to string them together…

They are in her room right now, for the third time this week and it's only Wednesday! I can hear the strokes her pencil makes as it tears at the paper. I can hear them breathing. The paper rustles and I know she's completed one sketch and as if one more masterpiece isn't enough, she continues to work. And my hatred reaches a new level, as does my envy.

They've taken to hugging upon parting ways. They finish and she'll close up her supplies and he'll push the chair back into its place in the corner, and they'll come out of the room, and damn it! They'll hug, long and hard, before he leaves. Sometimes he kisses her cheek. Sometimes she touches his shoulder. I hate it.

I hate that because I am a boy, it is wrong that I love him. I hate that Namine, my sister, a girl, is free to love him. That if they were to skip down Main Street, hand in hand, people would smile at the cute couple. If I would even touch him, it would be disgusting and sinful and god, so blasphemous. Oh, Heaven help me.

The muted scratching coming from behind the door my ear is pressed hotly against stops. She's finally done, her happy "hum" sound signals that she is finished and has created something else of profound beauty. And there is the dissonant cry of the chair scraping against the hardwood floor as Sora drags it back to its corner home. And they are talking in hushed whispers and I can't tell what is being said!

"I'm sorry, I can't Nami." He is saying, and while my heart pinches at hearing him use a pet name for her, I also can't help but be overwhelmed by my curiosity. What is he sorry for, what can't he do (with my sister no less)?

And all of a sudden he is moving, fast. And I have to shoot up and away from the door, quickly. I don't need to try to look innocent, as Sora walks out and sees me, I've mastered the art of deception. After all, Namine still thinks I love her like I used to, before Sora started coming around.

"Oh, h-hey Riku, right?" He sounds fluttery and nervous. Like he just fucked my sister but the condom broke and now they might have to have a shot-gun wedding. Or maybe my imagination is simply running away with me. After all he did say "I can't." Oh maybe he just couldn't this time… Eh.

Snapping out of my horrid, horrid thoughts I nod, because in all honesty I don't even remember telling him my name. It was Namine most likely, who told him about me. Still, it makes me feel all fluttery inside.

"Um, well, uh, see you around I guess." And he's turning and he's shot out the door by the time Namine has reached me, standing in the foyer, staring at a closed door.

"Riku-aniki, I think I really messed up this time." I bite back the scoff that instinctually rises up in my throat, and thank god the next second; because when I turn around, she's crying. Shit.

"Mine-chan, what happened?" Guilt, guilt, guilt; it's pressing down upon me while simultaneously welling up in me. I can't escape the guilt that I have been ignoring for so long.

But despite the guilt, I find it surprisingly easy to slip back into "Aniki Mode" even though I have been ignoring my sister, and hating her, for over 5 months.

A part of me still hates her, I'm ashamed to admit, but whatever happened in her room with Sora obviously hurt her. And no one hurts my sister, not while I am around. Doesn't matter that I love that boy obsessively. Doesn't matter worth a damn. Namine is blood. You don't fuck with blood, no matter how cute you are.

"Riku, I kissed him… And, and he, he pushed me away." The jealousy I had tamped down earlier swells in my chest, but I ignore it because my sister is heartbroken, and I know the feeling, and it's a horrible one. I have to be there for her, I _have to_, we have no one else.

"He said… he said he has a girlfriend. Been going out for 3 years. Loves her a lot…" And there goes my heart, as I blink away the tears she can't see because of her own. I try to nod, or something, but all I can manage is to breathe and blink. It'll have to do for now.

"It'll… it'll all be okay. Mine-chan, everything will be okay. I know it feels like you're dying," God how I know, "But it doesn't kill you. That's the really funny thing about broken hearts; they hurt worse than anything in the world, but they don't kill you."

As she collapses into my chest sobbing and wailing, I can't hate her anymore. Not when I want to do the same thing. Because what has all her talent earned her? Nothing more than I have. Some pictures of the boy I, and she, will never have.

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The End

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End Note: Not crazy about the ending, think it feels a bit rushed. Agree? Disagree? Let me know. I might fix the ending someday! Someday! But not tonight. I just want to put this up. Because today's my birthday!

PS, might add chapters or a sequel as well. Let me know if you think I should A) add chapters, B) do a sequel, or C) leave it stand alone. Thank you!


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